


Little Comforts

by BadonKaDank



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: A day in the life of the Pines boys, Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Stan, There are tears folks, They just love each other a lot okay?, Young Stan Twins, also lots of hugs/cuddles, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:38:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7556857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadonKaDank/pseuds/BadonKaDank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life may not always treat the Pines boys well, but as long as they have each other they'll be fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Comforts

**Author's Note:**

> My brother requested this when I told him I wanted to get some practice in to see if opening writing commissions would be something I'm interested in doing, and I'm rather pleased with how it turned out.
> 
> Also, I will state right now, this is PLATONIC. 100% brotherly love and nothing else. It's even glossed over that Stanley and Stanford are "nopenope" about the thought of it being anything but. 'Kay? 'Kay.

Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey, Nineteen Sixty-something

"Come on, Bro, we're gonna be late!"

Stanley rolled his eyes at his brother's eager attitude but nonetheless picked up his pace to match Ford's jog. Only his twin would be excited about having to get up early for school, Stanley thought with a fond smile and shake of his head. No matter how much he would rather stay in bed and skip, there was no way he would let his Sixer go anywhere by himself. Besides, it was always worth getting up when Stanley saw the beaming smile that Ford reserved for him and only him.

"I'm comin' Poindexter, quit'yer whining." Stanley punched his brother good-naturedly in the shoulder and Ford stuck his tongue out in response before giggles broke out at the silly gesture, effectively ruining the feigned indignation.

"Sheesh, what's got ya so happy about class today anyway?"

Stanley watched his twin's eyes light up at the question and his pace pick up the slightest bit as the door for their class loomed into view. "Ms. Clarke is gonna be going over astronomy, and she said if we got there early I could see the lesson plan for the week and read ahead."

Stanley groaned, throwing his head back dramatically even as they stepped into Ms. Clarke's classroom. "Noooo, you're such a nerrrrd!" He grabbed Ford's shoulders and leaned into his brother so he'd have to support him. Unimpressed, Ford shook him off and went up to their teacher, who smiled warmly down at him before giving Stanley a look that had the preteen huffing and going to his seat.

He watched as Ms. Clarke and Ford talked for a few minutes but tuned out whatever nerd stuff it was that they were saying and wondered why she, out of all the teachers he'd tried to charm, was the one who hated him the most. He'd never done anything that warranted her intense loathing (after all, plenty of other kids had fallen asleep in her class, so what was one more?), he always tried his hardest to understand what she taught, even going so far as to actually listen to what Ford said when trying to explain it to him instead of just copying his notes. In her class he honestly did try, so why was he the kid she was hardest on?

Sometimes he envied Ford. Sure, he couldn't see the fun in being a teacher's pet, but it didn't take a genius to see how much easier it made life. Unfortunately it seemed to take a genius to gain that sort of status, and it didn't take that much intelligence to realize Stanford was much smarter than him. Even if his mother tried to make him feel better by telling him he was just a slower learner, Stanley knew better, knew his brother wasn't just faster than him when it came to understanding concepts. No, there was something special about Ford that put him above everyone else, and that special something was his brain. His twin would deny it, but he was the smartest person in their small town of Glass Shard Beach, heck, maybe even in the whole world, and if Stanley could see that, there was no way their parents and teachers didn't.

Okay, so maybe he was envious of Ford more than sometimes, but how could he not be? Ford was amazing! He was unique… and Stanley was, well… just Stanley. He didn't have anything that made him special like his Sixer . He couldn't solve schoolwork easily, he didn't have any extra fingers, he wasn't an awesome inventor, or an artist (his drawings would never be as good as Ford's, anyway)… he wasn't anything impressive at all, and everyone knew it.

Stanley blinked when Ford plopped in the seat beside him and grinned widely in his direction, completely oblivious to the negative thoughts running rampant through his brother's mind, and Stanley felt himself relax into his chair as his brother started telling him about the week's lesson, and how he couldn't wait to get into next week's stuff. Stanley tuned him out for the most part, though made sure to nod and hum whenever his twin paused for breath, because he knew if he actually payed attention he would just become overwhelmed with the information. He was glad Ford was excited, but knowing they had so much to study was not a comfort to the younger twin.

Somehow Ford realized that, because a moment later he was trailing off with whatever he'd been saying and sending Stanley a curious look, nudging him lightly as he asked what was wrong.

Stanley shrugged, turning his attention to the scratches on his desk. "It's nothin'," He said, knowing Ford would keep poking at him until he answered honestly but still not wanting to. It was stupid, really, and he didn't want to bother his twin with those sorts of things. He knew Ford wouldn't laugh, but he wouldn't understand; understanding feelings wasn't exactly something his brother was good at. Besides, he'd say Stanley was being silly, because of course he was special, and… Oh.

Okay, well, maybe not everyone thought he was a waste of space.

That thought warmed Stanley's insides instantly and even the bell ringing to signal the start of class didn't chase it away. Yes, everyone else might have thought him useless and stupid, but Sixer didn't, and in the end he was the only one whose opinion truly mattered to the younger boy. Well, maybe Ma's too, but she didn't exactly count, because she had to love him no matter what, that was the rule of the universe: Mothers had to love their children regardless of how unintelligent or uninteresting they were.

Stanley sent a small smile his brother's way as the classroom began filling up and kicked his foot gently to get his attention. "Take lots of notes, Nerd. I'm probably gonna need some help with this one."

* * *

When school finally got out Stanley released an audible sigh of relief and took a deep breath, smiling when the ever present salty air filled his lungs and left him feeling calm even as he started buzzing with anticipation for what came next. Stanford was already pulling their notebook out of his backpack to go over the sketches and notes he'd made last Friday, letting Stanley be his eyes as they made their way down the street to the beach where the Stan'O'War was waiting for them. They'd decided on the name a few weeks back when they'd found the old, busted up ship, and to say Stanley was pleased that Ford had loved the name he'd suggested would have been an understatement. The way his brother had laughed, pleased with Stanley's contribution, before patting the younger twin's shoulder and saying he loved the name had made Stanley's heart soar; there was no better feeling in the world than having Ford genuinely love something he came up with.

Stanley just wished he was able to come up with things like that more often. At least he had his puns, which never failed to make his twin happy. Of course, most of those puns were sea related which meant Stanley ended up saving them for every Friday, the day they'd decided would be when they worked on the ship. Still, it was worth it to hear Ford's shrieking laughter when he could no longer ignore their hilarity.

The desire to hear that laugh right then was what made Stanley open his mouth, a topic that would easily lead up to the joke already in mind.

"Hey, Ford."

"Hmm?" Ford glanced up from his book momentarily to let him know he was listening and Stanley smirked.

"So, what's the plan for today?"

"Uh, we need to see what type of wood is used for the skeleton and see if anyone around town will give it to us if they have it. We also need to figure out how it's supposed to look so I can start thinking up blu-"

"Well, well, if it ain't the dork and the loser."

Stanley and Ford stopped mid-step at the familiar teasing voice that sent ice through one's veins and fire through the other's. Stanley fixed a glare onto his face when Crampelter and his buddies came to stand in front of them so he and Ford could see the blond's ugly sneer. Of course _he_ had to show up right when they'd been about to have fun.

"What are you freaks up to?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Stanley growled, his hands already curling into fists by his sides as he noted how tense his brother was, trying to subtly curl in on himself in order to hide the book and his six fingers. The motion spurred Stanley's anger all the more and the preteen narrowed his eyes, waiting for the bully to keep talking like he always did.

"Hey, it's justa simple question, no need ta get snippy."

"Yeah, just answer the man, loser."

Stan clenched his jaw, letting his hateful gaze brush over the two jerks Crampelter seemed to consider friends. He had long ago gotten used to the nickname they'd given him, so hearing "loser" roll off their tongues didn't really get to him anymore, and so long as they were focused on him nothing was wrong. After all, he'd dealt with plenty of people being mean to him before. He had thick skin, unlike-

"Check it, the dork's tryin'a hide something."

Oh, hell no!

The tall brunet to Crampelter's left went to reach for Ford's notebook and Stanley quickly jumped in front of his twin, shoving the older boy's arm back roughly.

"Leave him alone!"

"Why? We're just tryin ta see whatcha got goin' on. Ya guys take this route every friday and I'm just wonderin' why is all."

If it was possible Stanley's eyes grew darker as he turned his attention to the blond leader of the group. So that was what he wanted. Of course Crampelter would want to bug them about their habits when he had nothing better to do. He and Ford knew they were the favored targets of the teen's bullying but that never made it any easier to get past or ignore him. Especially when he and his friends were in the mood to cause trouble and not just be mean.

It wasn't often that they tried to take stuff that belonged to the brothers, but there were days when things apparently weren't going perfect in Crampelter's world and the guy felt the need to take it out on people smaller than him. Stanley supposed he understood that, even if he didn't know the reasons behind the blond's brand of cruelty, considering he had been tempted to take people's things or hit them because he'd had a bad day before. The only difference between them was that Stanley knew it was wrong and would lead to nothing good, so he didn't act on it.

Still, it didn't much matter to Stanley whether the blond was having a bad day or not, because the minute he tried to mess with Ford it wouldn't matter if the younger boy knew hurting others was wrong. He may not have been able to do anything other than console his twin after Crampelter threw hurtful words at him regarding his hands, but when it came to physical harm, Stanley would do whatever it took to keep Ford safe, even if it meant letting himself be the punching bag -and more often than not that was the end result.

"None'a your damn business, that's what we're doin'. Now get lost."

Crampelter narrowed his eyes and Stanley felt Ford shuffle closer until he was pressed against his back, a solid wall of comfort and encouragement that Stanley appreciated more than anything in that moment. Knowing Ford wasn't going to run away (he never did, but still) or tell him to stop defending themselves was something for which the younger boy was immensely grateful. Of course, Crampelter took it as something else entirely and scoffed at them.

"Pfft, why so you and ya brother can get yer cuddle on?"

Stanley heard Ford gasp, the implied message in the bully's words not lost on either of them despite their young age, and his twin pulled away slightly. The lose of contact made Stanley feel like he'd been burned and a sick anger started stirring in his gut. A quick glance over his shoulder made Stanley's heart clench painfully, seeing Ford holding himself more self-consciously than usual, eyes darting between Crampelter and him. It made Stanley want to punch something… no not something, actually, he knew exactly _who_ he wanted to punch.

How dare he… how dare that ugly, rude, son-of-a-lovely-lady make his brother suddenly self-conscious about their public displays of affection? How dare he make it out to be something sick and wrong? How dare he make Ford look ashamed to be close to his twin? How dare he try to taint that special bond they had? How. Dare...

Stanley saw red and before he knew it, he wasn't just thinking about wanting to punch the guy.

Crampelter obviously hadn't expected it, because the look on his face after Stanley's little fist connected with his nose screamed "what the hell". The triumph the boy would have felt for defending his brother died before it could even arise, however, when the realization of what he'd done sunk in about the same time Crampelter's redheaded buddy punched him in the face.

"Stanley!"

Ford was by his side instantly, book forgotten on the ground as he tried to help his brother. Pain was blooming on Stanley's jaw where he'd been hit and he didn't doubt he'd be sporting a nasty bruise later, but he didn't care when he saw the worry and fear mixed in Sixer's wide eyes. That brought him back to the situation at hand and Stanley got to his feet quickly, fists in front of his face as he once again shoved Ford behind him, ignoring his brother's quiet protests. He really didn't want the fight to go any further, but he had started it and now he would have to finish it, for the sake of protecting Ford.

However, Crampelter seemed to be more worried about his bloody nose than retaliating any further, and of course, his friends weren't going to do anything unless he backed them up. That didn't stop the bully from hurling more angry words at them before he left to deal with his injury.

"Freaks. Ya wonder why ya don't have any friends. Idiots."

Stanley shook his head angrily at that but said nothing more, not wanting another fight to break out, if you could call two punches and a retreating bully a fight, anyway.

As soon as the older boys' forms were close to out of sight, Stanley turned to his brother, an exasperated smile on his face and a joke dying in his throat the second he saw the crushed expression on his twin's face.

"Stanley…" Ford bit his lip and fidgeted with his hands, looking awkwardly at the ground, at Stanley, then back at the ground. The younger twin frowned at his brother's behavior and it took him a moment to remember the blond's words which had freaked Ford out so much and caused him to step back in the first place. Of course he would be worried about touching now after yet another person hinted that they were too close -thanks Pops. Now Ford thought Stanley might not want him touching him, just because he'd heard a second narrow-minded person comment on their closeness? Even though he'd clocked the guy who said it? Seriously?

Well, he would have to do something about that, now, wouldn't he?

"Oh, come on, Sixer."

Stanley opened his arms expectantly and almost rolled his eyes when relief passed visibly over his brother's face before Ford was wrapping his arms tight around his twin's waist and burying his face into the crook of the younger's neck. Stanley gave his older brother a squeeze and propped his chin on Ford's shoulder, ignoring the throbbing his jaw did in protest. "Don't let those idiots get to you."

"M'kay," Ford whispered before letting go and retrieving the discarded notebook. Stanley tried not to look surprised by his brother's lack of argument this time for favor of being glad that for once something he'd said regarding Crampelter's words garnered no protest from Ford. It meant his twin agreed one hundred percent and had just been waiting to make sure Stanley wasn't going to side with the bully on that one. As if that would ever happen.

Now there was only one order of business: Getting his Sixer to smile again.

"So, you ready to get the shell out of here? Get to the Stan'O'War?"

The corners of Ford's lips lifted into the beginning of a smile at the pun and he started to nod but stopped midway for his jaw to fall open as he let out a small but alarmed gasp that Stanley raised a brow at. When Ford started shaking his head the other eyebrow joined the first in the spot close to the younger's hairline and Stanley tried to figure out what his brother looked so concerned about.

"We've gotta go home! Your face needs to be iced!"

Oh, that. Pfft!

"Wha- No, Poindext-"

"Don't argue, Stan. We can work on the Stan'O'War tomorrow. Right now, you need ice. C'mon, Ma will help us."

Stanley groaned but made no other attempts to protest, knowing the whines would fall on deaf ears. When Ford was determined to get something done, nothing could stop him, and now was not any different; his older brother could be just as bullheaded as him when he wanted to be. Besides, he would be lying if he said some ice for his aching jaw didn't sound really nice.

As they made their way home and Stanley listened to Ford's tiny fretting comments said under his breath, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of mood their parents would be in when they got there. They'd seemed fine when they'd left for school that morning, so he could only hope nothing had changed.

He really should've taken their run-in with Crampelter as a sign that today was not going to be their lucky day.

* * *

"Ow! Ma!"

Stanley rubbed the back of his head where his mother had smacked him upon finding out how he'd gotten the bruise on his face and gave the woman a disgruntled look that she ignored for favor of continuing her rant.

"Stanley Pines, I can't believe ya would do somethin' so senseless! That boy is huge, what were ya thinkin' getting caught up in fight with 'im?"

"I was defending Stanford, Ma!" Stanley defended himself, gesturing pointedly at the brother standing a few feet off. "They were tryin'a take his stuff an' kept callin' him a freak."

Their mother's only response was to give him an unimpressed look before she left for the kitchen, emerging a few seconds later with a bag of ice before Stanley could grumble his displeasure at her lack of understanding. The brunette knelt before Stanley and the boy relaxed when he saw her expression soften as she brought the cold compress to the side of his face with a fond sort of sigh.

"I know ya were just protectin' Stanford, Peanut. I just worry 'bout ya. You're too reckless for yer own good."

Oh. Stanley took the ice pack and let his gaze drop, no longer wanting to meet his Ma's gaze now that he knew she wasn't actually mad and he wasn't actually in trouble. Now he just felt bad. He hated causing his mother unneeded distress, and knowing she'd probably been busy dealing with rude customers on the phone all day left the boy wondering if it might have been better to just have gone to his bedroom and let her relax for a little before she started working on dinner.

"Hey, don't ya start gettin' mopey on me now, Stanley," Ma lifted his chin so he was forced to look at her again and Stanley bit his lip when he saw the faint smile on her face. "Thanks for keepin' yer brother safe, Little Man."

Despite still feeling bad for worrying her, Stanley felt lighter with his mother's praise and he gave her a small smile in return before hopping down from the table. A quick glance at Ford showed his twin checking the kitchen entrance over his shoulder and it didn't take much effort to figure out why his brother was doing that; it was 6:30, and that meant Pa was going to be closing up the shop downstairs. If they were still in sight when he came up they would get roped into a brief, stiff conversation (which was really more an interrogation) about school, which was almost always followed by a few seconds of awkward silence when Stanford and he couldn't think of anything else to say, and then they'd get to watch their mother try and get him to tell her about his day, which he would do in as few words as possible, it seemed. Stanford thought he just didn't talk much around them and spoke lots with their Ma when they were alone, but for some reason Stanley doubted that, even if he didn't have the heart to tell his brother. Still, it was probably best for all of them if they avoided their Pa until they were called out for dinner.

"Alright, Ma, I won't be mopey. Can Ford and me go play now?"

"Sure, go have fun. Oh, and Stanley?"

The boy paused, already stepping out of the small kitchen with Ford, and hummed at his mother to let her know he was listening.

"It would be "Ford and I". Grammar is import'nt."

Stanley ducked his head when his face warmed at the correction and he elbowed Ford roughly in the side when he started snickering. "Right, sorry." He said before using his free hand to grab his brother's arm and drag him to their room.

As soon as the door was closed the two slid their backpacks off and flung them onto the bottom bunk of their bed in one well practiced motion, identical tired sighs echoing in the small space. Ford said nothing when he walked over to Stanley's bed and flopped gracelessly onto it in order to drag their project notebook out once more and the younger twin didn't comment as he took a seat beside his brother. It was funny how not twenty minutes ago Stanley had wanted to ignore his injury in order to go down to the beach, but now he was content with just sitting, not doing anything whilst he waited for Ford to begin a conversation. He could tell one was formulating in his twin's big brain and he, for once, was in no rush to talk -and _no_ it wasn't because he was starting to feel that punch more prominently now.

Ford didn't take long though, so the silence didn't stretch out enough to have the opportunity of becoming stuffy, something Stanley greatly appreciated. He was fine with quiet as much as the next kid but silence for too long always made him feel really uncomfortable, he didn't know why.

"So, no ship today?"

Stanley shrugged and leaned back against his pillow. "Ya said we could do it tomorrow. 'Sides, I'm kinda tired."

"Me too," Ford admitted, closing the spiral bound notebook and sticking back in his pack. "How long do you think it'll take Ma to make dinner?"

"Eh," Stanley shrugged once more, shoving his backpack off the bed and throwing Ford's onto their small desk before his twin could protest the treatment of his stuff. The boy could easily see where their conversation was going and he was more than willing to let it happen, but he wasn't going to have stuff all over his bed. "It'll probably take, like, half an hour-ish."

The younger brother toed his shoes off as he spoke and smirked in triumph at his correct deductions when Ford stifled a yawn and dropped his head onto Stanley's stomach, his eyes already starting to close.

"Whoa, hey, don't forget your glasses." Stanley pulled said items off his brother's face before Ford got the chance to even lift his head and the older sibling made a grateful noise at the back of his throat, still not moving an inch.

"You're really tired, aren't ya?"

"Mmm," Ford nodded sluggishly and Stanley huffed out a small laugh as he brought a hand up to play with his twin's hair. Ford always had liked having his hair pet and twirled, something Stanley had found out a few years back when he'd been trying to calm him down after some other kid had ripped his class notes in a fit of anger. It was just as well, because when he had his hair messed with, Ford had a tendency to cuddle, and that was something Stanley loved more than anything, even if he hadn't said as much aloud. And when the two of them were both worn out after a long day of school, those were the fastest ways to get either of them to sleep, and both boys knew it. This time though, Stanley wasn't tired, he was just content to have his brother snuggled up close to him as he let his thoughts drift.

* * *

Stanley didn't know the exact length of time he'd been running his fingers through Ford's curls, but figured it must have been awhile when his mother's voice calling for them and saying dinner was ready broke through his daydreaming.

As much as Stanley didn't want to wake his brother up and go out there right then, he knew it would was in their best interest to do so, which was why he found himself sitting up and nudging Ford awake with a resigned sigh. "C'mon, Poindexter, up-up."

"Huh-uh," Ford whined, burying his face further into Stanley's shirt and making the boy roll his eyes.

"Now, Sixer."

"..."

"Pa's gonna get annoyed if ya don't."

"I'm up!" His brother pushed off his lap, off the bed and put his glasses back on as fast as he could and Stanley followed suit, smoothing out the covers on the bed before heading for the dinner table. Their parents were already sat down, speaking quietly enough that neither boy could understand what was being said, as per usual. Stanley and Ford took their seats opposite each other like they always did and the conversation from the adults died down.

Ma had already served them and Stanley heard his stomach growl when he caught a good whiff of the casserole, but thankfully nobody else heard the noise. Across the table Ford was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, trying to do so as subtly as possible so their father didn't ask what was wrong with him. Stanley spoke up to help direct the man's attention from his twin.

"Can we eat?"

Ma chuckled lightly at his bluntness and nodded in response. "Go for it."

Stanley dug in without any further comment and only stopped when their father's voice broke through the soft clinking of silverware against ceramic plates. "How is school?"

It took the preteen a moment to realize for once the man had been addressing him first and not his brother. "Oh, uh, it's fine. I guess."

"You guess?"

"Teachers're nice," The boy added when he saw his Pa's eyebrow raise, unimpressed with his first answer.

"Good," He intoned, as if he didn't actually care, "How about that test you took?"

"Test?" Stanley frowned, tilting his head as he tried to figure out what test his father was referring to. Before he could find the answer himself though, Ma interrupted, helping him out a little. "The math test ya took on Tuesday."

"Oh! That one. Yeah, we uh, haven't gotten a grade on that yet…" Stanley checked Pa's expression from the corner of his eyes but the light was hitting his glasses just right (like it always seemed to) and left him without a clue as to what he might be thinking. Obviously he wasn't going to blame Stanley for the teachers being slow, but when it came to their father he didn't even have to directly blame you to make you feel bad. And the brunet was already trying not to fidget under his gaze.

Thankfully Pa didn't focus on him for much longer, turning to Stanford who was already sitting up straight, ready to answer the same questions Stanley just had.

"School is going well for me too. I still haven't made any friends, but Ms. Clarke said I'll probably have an A by the time scores start coming in next week. She says the same probably goes for my other classes too."

The displeased frown that seemed permanently etched into their father's face shifted further until it resembled a scowl and Stanley saw the way Ford gulped, his eyes darting back and forth as if reading some invisible script in the air, trying to find what it was he'd said wrong. Pa's words cleared it up pretty well though.

"An "A"?"

Ford blanched at his mistake and shook his head hard, stammering out a response. "N-no, I-I uh, I meant A Plus, but I accidentally said A, but I meant A Plus. Sorry. I was supposed to say A Plus…"

Stanley winced as Ford continued to stumble along, voice dropping lower and lower until it was more of a mutter than anything, his nerves making it near impossible for him to stop. He knew he had to spare his brother from saying any more… even if it did bring the most likely negative attention back to him.

"Hey, Poindexter, she say anythin' about my potentle grades?"

Ford bit his lip, eyes marginally wider than normal as he understood what Stanley was doing. The boy could see the gratitude written all over his twin's face and found then that even if it did mean getting dumped on by Pa, it would be all right, because at least Ford wasn't under his scrutiny. He gave his brother an almost imperceptible nod and both boys jumped back into their roles as if nothing had just happened.

"It's pronounced "potential", Stanley. And uh… she didn't say much about your grades, but I bet you'll get an A- er, A Plus, too! You deserve a bunch of them."

Stanley smiled at his brother for the effort. Even knowing it was a lie he, couldn't help but feel better knowing Ford not only wanted to make him look good in front of their parents, but genuinely thought he actually should get good grades. At least somebody had noticed he was making an effort to do well in school.

Their father, however, wasn't buying it for even as second, as Stanley knew he wouldn't. The man scoffed, the sound derisive and unamused, and the brunet would have been fine if the conversation had stopped there, but of course Ford wasn't going to leave it be because, bless and curse him, he cared.

"No, Lee really does deserve it! He's been working really hard and is doing all his homework, and asking for help and stuff. He's trying r-"

"Stanford, Stanley would be lucky to get a C and you know it. Stop puffin' your brother up and letting him think cheating off'a you and calling it hard work means he deserves good anything."

Ford's jaw dropped open and he inhaled sharply as if to say something else and Stanley wished his legs were longer then so he could kick him under the table to shut him up. Ma clearing her throat was the next best thing though, the sound cutting through the tension like a knife and making Ford close his mouth with an audible snap. Ford gnawed on his lip again and despite his earlier resolution to take whatever his father dished out and not show how much it affected him, Stanley felt heat prick behind his eyelids and a lump form in his throat.

He really should've been used to Pa's dismissive attitude towards him and everything he did, but apparently he wasn't, because no matter how many times Stanley told himself the words couldn't hurt him, they did. They hurt a lot. Sometimes they hurt more than anything else their old man could throw at him, because at least when he was being held off the ground and shaken by his shirt collar he could find solace in knowing that when it was done he could get up and dust himself off, and there wouldn't be anything standing in his way. The words though… he couldn't just dust them off and say "someday he won't be able to do that to me", because even when the man had finished and left him alone, the things that had been said stuck with him, hiding in the back of his mind and waiting to attack. It hurt. It hurt deep down, and there was nothing he could do to fix it. But it was fine… or at least… it had to be.

Stanley blinked rapidly a few times to dispel the wetness in his eyes before it could fully form into anything that would cause humiliation, and ate as fast as he could, not wanting to spend longer at that table then he had to. He was grateful to Ma for shutting the talk down, but he was in no mood to wait for something else to pop up. Ford seemed to have the same idea because he was eating just as quickly, if not faster, and if their parents noticed, they didn't comment on it.

Stanley finished in what had to be record time and Ford followed soon after, thanking their mother for dinner and putting his and his twin's dishes in the sink when Stanley forgot to. She gave them a small nod of appreciation as she waved a hand at them, a clear message to go on and do their own thing. Stanley wasn't sure, but he could swear once they'd gotten out of her line of sight he saw Ma glare at their father. Now wouldn't that have been dandy? The mental image was enough to make the boy shudder and want to giggle at the same time. Their mother may not have been the head of the household, and she may not stop Pa when he was having a day, but when she was mad everybody knew they'd best stay out of her way. Their mother angry could be more terrifying than Crampelter's father- and it was kind of hard to be scarier than the police chief; he carried a gun at all times and made a habit of subtly threatening people so that his stupid son could get away with everything bad he did.

It didn't matter much to him in the end though because he wasn't going to be able to deal with it.

Stanley closed the door to their room once more, hopefully for the last time that day, and turned to see Ford with tears in his eyes, looking the way Stanley felt in that moment: Miserable. It was no secret to him that his brother was the more emotional one most of the time when it came to their life, his empathy for what Stanley felt making it difficult for him to ignore the pain, but Stanley was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around how sudden this was. Normally there was a warning before Ford turned on the waterworks.

"Ford, what-?"

"I'm sorry. I should've just shut my mouth."

"S'not your fault," Stanley tried to reassure quickly, not wanting his twin to blame himself, but Ford was shaking his head before he'd even finished the sentence.

"Yes it is. Why is he so… so _mean_ to you?" Ford's voice cracked on the last bit and Stanley watched his brother curl in on himself, his arms wrapping around his waist and hugging tightly. Stanley hated when he did that, tried to make himself smaller, invisible.

"Hey, hey, Sixer c'mere," The boy pulled his twin close and Ford let Stanley guide his face until their foreheads were pressed together and the younger brother wiped the tears off that had managed to leak out from behind the older's closed eyes. "Why're ya so upset about this?"

Ford unwound his arms from his own body and transferred the hold to Stanley's shoulders whilst Stanley released his hold on his brother's head to start rubbing circles into his back as Ford cried.

"H-He's just s-so _awful_ to you, Lee. D-doesn't think you're go-good enough. S-Stupid."

"Shhh, shhhhh," Stanley shrugged even as he continued his attempts to calm his twin. "I don't know why, Sixer. Don't worry about it."

"How can you s-say that?" Ford pulled back and scrubbed at his eyes, sniffling loudly as he attempted to get his emotions under control again. "Doesn't it b-bother you?"

"Yeah," Stanley sighed, "But there's nothin' I can do about it."

"Why do you just take it though?"

Stanley smiled then, the expression equal parts amused and perplexed. That was an easy question to answer, though how Ford didn't already know was beyond him. "Ain't it obvious?"

Ford sniffled again, the tears finally stopping, though Stanley was sure it took effort to get them to do so, and he shook his head slowly, as if thinking hard and looking for the answer. Stanley decided not to torture him when he realized his brother really wasn't able to figure it out.

"I don't care what he says. I care what _you_ say."

Ford was quiet for a long stretch of time that left Stanley wondering if he'd accidentally broken him or something, but didn't get to ask as Ford finally whispered a soft and understanding, if still a bewildered, "... Oh."

"Sixer, I don't give a rat's butt what anyone else says about me. If ya got my back, I'm happy."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Oh… okay…" Ford still looked like he was having a hard time comprehending that and Stanley rolled his eyes as a peaceful hush descended upon their room. This time, Stanley found he didn't mind it much, even when it lasted longer than a minute, because it didn't hold any weight to it. It was just him and his brother, taking a moment to breathe and relax before the fatigue of the day started rearing it's head. Stanley let his brother think about what he'd said, let him come to terms with exactly what it meant, because it was true and he wanted Ford to understand.

Sure, words did hurt him. They hurt deeply and continued hurting long after they stopped being said, but that didn't mean they were the only things Stanley ever heard or had going through his head. No, he had plenty of things to combat the negative with, and all of them, every single one, came from the person who wore the same face as him. They came from his Sixer.

Now it was his turn to make him feel better. And of course Stanley knew exactly how to do that.

"So, _water_ we gonna do? Homework? Or should we get _punfy_?

"Lee, that's stupid!"

"Then why are you laughing?"

"'Cuz it was stupid!"

"Well I can't _kelp_ it if it's bad!"

"Stoooop!"

Stanley laughed along with his twin, making more awful puns as they came to him and listening to his brother try and fail to catch his breath. Seeing his twin so happy after he'd been so sad and knowing he'd done that made the mirth bubbling from his chest and the grin stretching his face all the more genuine. A feeling of accomplishment blossomed then and was left running through him when Ford finally gave up and collapsed onto the bed with him, where he stayed until they both started drifting off to sleep.

Yeah, Stanley thought as his eyes grew heavier and sleep began taking over, Stanford at his side. That's all he really needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I too think Filbrick is a real piece of work, and this will be shown pretty every time he is involved in something I write. Normally I don't refer to Stanley as "Stanley" throughout an entire thing, but I think up until the portal incident he still thought of himself as "Stanley" not "Stan". Idk, it's just something that makes perfect sense in my mind.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! If you feel like dropping a comment and letting me know what you thought, I'd appreciate it! :)


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